


Turkish Delight

by Night_Lotus



Category: Chuck (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-24
Updated: 2012-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-22 05:00:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/606084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Night_Lotus/pseuds/Night_Lotus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Casey infiltrates a hookah bar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turkish Delight

The scent of hookah smoke clung to his clothes, hair and skin. “Goddamn money-laundering hippies,” Casey growled under his breath as he made for the exit of Aladdin’s Lamp shisha lounge. Great, I smell like a fucking free-loving, pansy-assed, beatnik.  The foul-mouthed, bad-tempered inner tirade continued as Casey walked the couple blocks to the grubby alleyway where his black SUV was parked. “At least the car is still here,” he muttered darkly as he climbed into the vehicle and shut the door to choke off the fetid stench of rotten, decomposing garbage, excrement and other foul odors that he didn’t even want to attempt to name, which were wafting in and assailing his nose.  

 

As he pulled out of the alley and merged with street traffic, he used the hand not on the steering wheel to begin removing the various components of his disguise, starting with the annoyingly itchy fake goatee glued to his chin, followed by the medium length, curly, brown-haired wig and the chunky, black Dolce & Gabbana framed eyeglasses favored by the trustafarians that frequented Aladdin’s. “God, I really hate this shitty assignment,” he spat as he pulled the woven silver ring from the middle finger of his right hand, tossing it into the seat behind him, where it joined the other remnants of his get-up.

 

Earlier that afternoon, Chuck had flashed on Hakan Zayir and Aladdin’s, which Zayir used as a front to conceal his illicit trade, which was used to fund terrorist activity around the globe. Casey went to the hookah bar dressed as a would-be patron and strategically planted listening devices while convincingly pretending to smoke a personal-sized bowl. 

 

Casey gunned the engine of the government-issued vehicle as he raced through the streets of L.A., desperately trying to get home in time to change clothes before attending the traditional Bartowski Sunday evening dinner.

 

He pulled into his parking spot with five minutes to spare, just enough time to change, but with no chance for a shower. Casey went into his apartment and emerged three minutes later dressed in a dark, sapphire blue polo shirt, tan slacks and tennis shoes, grasping a bottle of red wine in his hand, mentally making a note to incinerate the Armani Exchange shirt and True Religion jeans currently balled up in the back of his bedroom closet. 

 

He walked the short distance to Chuck and Ellie’s apartment and knocked on the walnut- stained wooden door with a hefty fist that was itching to serve up a good, old fashioned, beat down to the miscreant whose establishment still had him smelling like a flower child. Maybe no one will notice. 

 

Ellie answered, a smile of pure pleasure blossoming on her face as she discovered that it was John at the door. The sumptuous scent of beef burgundy wafted out of the interior of the warm, cozy apartment, blanketing them both in the promise of a delicious dining experience. That, coupled with the sight of her dressed in a sparkly silver sweater dress with her hair down, made his mouth water. “John, please come in,” she said as she pulled the door open wider to admit him. “You’re the first one here.”

 

“Where’s everyone?” he questioned, quickly surveying the living area as he followed Ellie into the kitchen to deposit the bottle of wine on the counter. “John, you’re always so thoughtful,” she said, spotting the wine. “Thank you.” Well,” she continued, “Chuck is picking up Sarah, Morgan and Anna are probably doing something I’d rather not think about, an involuntary shudder ran down her spine, “and Devon is wave jumping at Pismo Beach with some of his college friends. The later earned an exaggerated eye roll from Casey while Ellie had her back turned, busily pulling down wine glasses from the cabinet.

 

Ellie retrieved the wine opener from the kitchen drawer, turning to face him, moving close as she held it out with an adorable, sheepish look on her face. “Would you mind doing the honors? I’m horrible at it, and half the time the cork either won’t come out, or bits of it end up floating in the bottle.” “Sure, I’d be happy to.” As John reached out to take the opener from her outstretched hand, Ellie crinkled her nose and leaned in close to his neck, sniffing the air. “Mmmm, what is that smell?” she asked, moving in even closer. “Ellie, I’m sorry, I...” “You smell amazing, John,” she cut in before he could force out the hastily formulated excuse. “Whatever you’re wearing smells like oranges and lemons with a bit of a floral essence, accentuated with pipe smoke. I didn’t know you smoked a pipe!” 

 

John actually blushed before explaining. “I don’t. I wasn’t fast enough to escape being squirted by one of those annoying fragrance testers at the Large Mart. She ambushed me as I walked in the door,” he finished with a disgruntled sigh. “What’s it called?” she inquired edging so close that she was practically touching him with her nose, and he could feel her warm breath caressing the skin of his neck.  _Go on, sweet girl, take a bite. I don’t mind._ “What,” he stammered, jolting himself back to reality as he opened his eyes, which he hadn’t realized were closed. “The scent, what’s it called?” Ellie reiterated as she looked up at him with a twinkle in her slate grey eyes. “Turkish Delight, I think,” he replied as the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it,” Ellie said cheerily as she swung away from him and headed to the front door. “Impeccable timing as always, Grimes,” he groused grumpily under his breath. 

 

Morgan, followed by Anna, trounced into the kitchen to place their dinner contribution, twice baked cheddar and sour cream potatoes, on the counter. Morgan clapped Casey on the back. “Dude, you smell delicious.   What is that?” “It’s you in a world of hurt, if you don’t back off, Grimes,” Casey growled, giving Morgan his most menacing narrow-eyed gaze. “Okay, cranky as always, I see,” Morgan said, leading Anna by the hand into the dining room where Ellie was setting out the wine glasses. 

 

Casey kept himself busy by opening the wine, plating the side dishes and filling the salad bowls as Ellie set the large, steaming, china platter of beef burgundy on the dining room table. “Why don’t we sit down and enjoy some wine while we’re waiting for Chuck and Sarah to join us,” Ellie suggested after the entire meal was laid out. 

 

Chuck and Sarah walked in shortly after the wine was poured, and Chuck plopped down unceremoniously next to Casey. “Hey, big guy, you smell great! Can you pass the potatoes?”   
  
 _Next time, I’m not just planting listening devices. I’m going to place enough C4 to blow that little hippie hell hole to oblivion_ , Casey ruminated with menace. 

 


End file.
